It's there from birth, waiting to be opened at the right time. And as soon as this piece of our inner luggage is opened, we immediately look to the sky. And we feel it. The thinfeeling. The feeling that the universe itself has folded, like a napkin, and we are on the edge of that folded paper; in space.

We see our old life on one side, as we look down to our left.

Looking down to our right, we see that white light that everyone says you see.

At this point, there is no choice involved. What you see to your left is just a memory. A wonderful memory, but a dream . . . The forces which you might have set in motion in that dream become like fancy. They might have been real. Maybe not.

The family you are about to leave behind, the friends . . . They exist, don't they? Not sure. But you're sure that if they do, they'll all be fine. Because one day they'll be here. . . Looking down to their right. Which is what you do now.

Knowing this makes it easier to accept. It's a thinprecipice, and you can't stay here for long. . . You fall to the right (if you're right handed; otherwise reverse the instructions here) and feel that feeling you have had in dreams where you fly. This time it's real.

Those who fear death just don't really want to meet her. She is actually your sweet relief, with pointy, pointy teeth. Those teeth cut deep and leave marks, but marks mean nothing where you're going.

I fear that someone close to me is about to die. However, I don't fear this for that person; Rather, I fear the concept,Don't I?

Not close; not crowded; not filling the space; not having the individuals of which the thing is composed in a close or compact state; hence, not abundant; as, the trees of a forest are thin; the corn or grass is thin.